


Spellbound

by helens78



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-02
Updated: 2003-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan catches up to "Gana" after a long wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spellbound

I'm never going to know where that little _image_ of Qui's came from. It could just be something he pulled out of thin air -- probably is. Or maybe it's something he sensed the night I met Gana, when those dark eyes were so near the surface of my thoughts I nearly caught myself screaming his name when I was coming for Qui. Maybe one of those nights at Rising I wasn't shielding well enough while I was scanning the crowd for another glimpse of dark eyes. I'll never know.

I honestly don't know whether I'm more irritated with Qui, for giving me that thought, or me, for still wondering what Gana's doing. Force, those _eyes_ of his...

I did see him again. Once. Back at Rising. And we didn't speak. I was leaning against a pillar, with this really hot guy with orange-and-white striped skin drilling into me -- we hadn't even made it into the back room, he was so hot -- and as I looked around, I saw _him_ at the bar. He grinned, and tipped his drink to me.

But he was gone before I could get to him. And when I went home, Qui was waiting for me. My shields were broken into shards by the end of the night. Yeah, that's probably when Qui picked up on it. Chances are, he doesn't even know what he said.

It's been more than two months since then. I assume if Gana were planning on coming back, I'd have seen him by now. Then again, my job has taken me off Coruscant for longer than two months at a stretch before. Maybe he's working. Maybe I missed him when _I_ was off planet.

Maybe I should stay the fuck home tonight. If I leave now, I'll be looking for exactly who Qui told me to: _...a well-dressed, really gorgeous man, somebody who doesn't hit the clubs very often. He's been watching you for a while, maybe for weeks, and tonight he makes his move? You dance with him for a while, before you take him by the hand and lead him to the back room. Maybe he makes you suck him off first..._

Just the idea is enough to leave me horny and irritated. It's been a long time since someone's told me "no" and meant it for more than about five seconds. It's been longer since I cared. If I leave now, the only one I'll want is Gana, and he won't be there -- or if he's there, it's not going to happen, and I'll come home growling. Thanks a fucking lot, _Master_.

Hell. I shouldn't be growling at Qui over this, either. Not his fault. I don't like thinking about someone this way -- don't like the way I'm still thinking of someone I haven't seen and didn't even fuck. I'll have to make something up to tell Qui later, when he asks what I ended up doing after he broke the commlink. I'm not going out tonight.

* * *

A few days pass, and T'nell comes looking for me as I'm heading back to my quarters for the night. "Where have you been lately?" he asks, slinging a friendly arm around me. "Are the clubs just not the same without Master Jinn around?"

They're not, of course, but with T'nell, they can be damn close. I grin up at him. He's flushed and smiling. Probably doing some of the more intense katas today; I'm sorry I missed it. T'nell is amazingly fluid when he moves, graceful in a way most men his size never manage. I remember really noticing that grace for the first time on Harwan, and how it had sent a flare of interest directly to my groin. "I've been busy with my class."

"Ah." T'nell gives me an understanding look. I know he's thinking of Padawan Keli Briggs, and wondering if that's why I'm avoiding the club scene. It's a better reason than what's really keeping me away, so I don't argue. "I'll tell you what -- if the kid starts pestering you, tell me, and I'll distract him for you. No trouble, really."

I laugh. "You're really looking to get me out of here tonight, aren't you?"

"You seem tense. Come on, please?" He grins again. "If you don't find what you're looking for, _I'll_ come home with you."

"T'nell, your selflessness and compassion absolutely floor me."

His hand goes down, briefly, to grope at my ass. "Why, thank you. Go get dressed. I'll meet you back here in half an hour."

"That's rather early."

"You look like you need it." He winks, and I can't help smiling at him. It's a good offer -- T'nell is fun in bed, and it would certainly take the edge off if I can't find whoever I'm looking for in the clubs.

Whatever. Not who. Not looking for anyone, anything, in particular.

Still telling myself that, I head home and dress.

* * *

The floor is packed, even this early. A lot of the faces are new -- maybe people I never see because we're never here this early in the evening. It's a whole new world of people to fuck, and I'm loving it. T'nell was right -- it's been too long.

A few people check me out as I'm dancing, and I enjoy their eyes on me. One of them is forward enough to pull his arms around me and get close. He's hot -- about my height, bright blue hair in a shockingly mussed cut that must take him hours to put together before he goes clubbing. He brushes his mouth over my neck, and I grind my hips into him. Oh, this could be good.

He starts leading me back into the back room, and I'm following, when something at the bar catches my eye -- what the...? No, you have to be kidding me. That's not who I think it is, is it?

I stop mid-pace and look. Fuck it. It _is_ him. It's just like last time: I spot Gana at the bar while I'm off with someone else. The blue-haired man pulling me off the dance floor notices I've stopped, and tugs on my hand to get me going again. For a minute, I weigh my options, wondering if I could leave with the blue-haired man and never think of Gana again.

Of course, then Gana looks my way. He locks eyes with me. An eyebrow goes up, and damn it all, it's an invitation. From Mr. Never-Fucks-A-Jedi. _Fuck._

I turn to the blue-haired man, and pull him close, getting my lips right next to his ear and sucking on his earlobe for a minute. "Maybe later," I tell him.

"What?"

"Later."

He stands there, stunned, as I start walking toward the bar. I hear a delayed reaction of "Asshole!", and don't care.

Gana is grinning at me by the time I get to him. Smirking, really, if I'm to be honest. He still looks overdressed for this place. This time it's a pair of blue slacks and a tight black sweater, and a nearly-floor-length jacket with swirls of lighter and darker blue. Must have cost a fortune. It's going to get into something sticky if he's not careful with it. He has a drink in hand, that brandy he likes. He's waiting for me to say something.

I can think of a dozen different things I'd like to say, but I'm not going to say anything until he gets that fucking smirk off his face.

He puts his drink down and stands up. He comes over to me, and he's so close I can feel his body heat through three layers of fabric.

_He's been watching you for a while, maybe for weeks, and tonight he makes his move?_

"Want to get out of here?"

"Oh, yes."

* * *

What the _hell_ am I doing? I'm sitting in a restaurant, a fairly nice one, feeling underdressed and awkward, while Gana orders dinner for me and looks like this happens to him every day: picking up a Jedi in one of the raunchiest clubs on Coruscant and taking him somewhere respectable. I find myself hoping no one sees me here, wishing I could twist my braid behind my ear the way Keli can and be anonymous. It's one thing to look like this in a club; it's something else if I'm somewhere I might actually be expected to act like a _Jedi_. But I'm worrying too much over nothing, I suspect. This is a very quiet place, the lights are dim, no one's looking.

I find myself thinking Gana probably knew no one would be looking for me here, and we could have some privacy. But why does he know that? What's his angle? Was I right the first time, months ago, when I thought he might be a trader? Maybe he's a celebrity of some kind, and he doesn't want people elbowing into our booth for autographs and holos while we eat. I appreciate the effort he's taken to give us this privacy, regardless of whether it's for me or for himself -- but who _is_ this guy?

"What have you been up to in the past few months?" he asks. "Stop any rebellions? Free any planets from dictators?"

"Stop it," I tell him. It's enjoyable being with someone whose idea of a great pickup line isn't _Can I see your lightsaber?_ or _You're not going to use one of those Jedi mind-tricks on me, are you?_ (with an accompanying batting of eyelashes), but he's pushing it. I can feel the crease in my brow where I'm starting to frown, and he leans back in his seat, still grinning at me.

"You have a better sense of humor about being a Jedi when you're in the clubs. I once saw you laugh off someone who offered you a blowjob as repayment for something the Jedi did for his planet."

My eyebrows go up. I've had people make several offers just like that, but not recently. He looks away, shaking his head, a hint of chagrin coming over his face but passing just as quickly. "I wasn't trying to make light of you," he says.

"No?"

"No, I'm genuinely curious. What have you been up to since we talked last?" He senses my hesitation and holds up a hand. "I promise, no more joking. I won't even offer you a blowjob if it turns out you've done some great service to my planet."

"No? Pity. What planet is that again? Alderaan, was it?"

He smiles at me, and looks away for a moment before turning those eyes of his back on me and nodding. "Yes, I'm from Alderaan."

"Well, I'm afraid I haven't been to Alderaan for some years now. I've actually been back on Coruscant for the last few months." And, frankly, I don't want to tell him about the mission Qui-Gon and I went on before that. "I've been teaching at the Temple."

"Teaching? But you're a padawan yourself."

"Yes, but I'm a senior padawan, and there are things I'm qualified to teach."

"I can imagine," he says, purring. I fix him with a mock glare.

"No joking. You promised."

"Who's joking?"

I roll my eyes at him. Talking with Gana is like wrestling with Qui. If I'm foolish enough to think I have him pinned, I end up twisted into knots. When I think I'm gaining ground on him, I end up flat on my back again. It's been a long time since I've wrestled with Qui, now that I think about it. Maybe I'll suggest it when he comes back.

"So how did you end up with a teaching job? Is this a permanent career move?"

My eyes snap back to focus on Gana, and he's got this _look_ on his face telling me he knows I was distracted. I clear my throat. "The master who ordinarily teaches level 10 maths was sent on a mission to Draethos, and he asked if I'd mind taking over one of his classes. I enjoy the subject, and it seemed like a good way to start getting some teaching experience." My thoughts wander back to Padawan Keli Briggs, and I half-smile. "It's been quite the learning experience for me, too, actually."

"How does it compare to saving the world?"

I grin. "It has its own particular merits." Oh, damn. Another point to Gana; he made a joke about my work, and I responded. He looks like the proverbial cat that got the canary. Roll with it, Kenobi. "I'm even better at saving the world than I am at level 10 maths. You'll have to let me know if you ever need tips."

His smile drops. Got him! I don't know how, but I got him. What did I say? But it doesn't last long; he's back to his grinning, I-can-beat-that expression in no time. "Oh, I've saved a world or two myself. We could trade pointers."

"Saved a world or two? Doing what?" The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I'm curious. Damn! He shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I can't possibly give it to you that easily." He leans forward. Force, his eyes are dark, and having them focused on me like this makes me want to grab him and pull him over the table, get him into my lap while I kiss the smirk off his face. "What do _you_ think I do?"

"Other than not fucking Jedi?"

He laughs, and I join him. "Tell me about the last time you saved the world," he says. "Which world?"

"Fin'aq. Ever heard of it?"

"Yes," he says. My expression must say I don't believe him, because he elaborates. "Small planet, two moons, forty percent water; their main exports are music and a particularly excellent sandstone, but they have to import almost all their food. Shall I go on?"

All right, who the hell _is_ this guy? "Small" is an understatement when it comes to Fin'aq -- the entire population is just over a million beings. Why would he have heard of it?

"Tell me," he urges. "What did you do?"

I'm a little hesitant to say, now, because if he's heard of Fin'aq at all, he's probably well aware of the details. "I didn't do much," I have to admit. "My master is one of the best negotiators in the Republic. He was able to get all the parties to settle their grievances. No one was particularly happy, but everyone was satisfied. And, more to the point, the planet didn't starve."

"So you sat back and let your master take care of everything?" he asks.

I feel a flash of irritation, and push it down before I can bite out something sarcastic. "No, not at all. We were under a great deal of pressure; there wasn't a lot of time to waste. I convinced two of the parties it was in their best interest to work with us. In the meantime, I found a planet willing to ship emergency supplies to the people who were running out of food."

He leans closer, and that smile, those eyes, both are giving me different signals from the ones I've been reading all night long. "Congratulations," he says.

"What for?"

He looks a bit surprised. "Your mission was a success, wasn't it? You have every reason to be proud."

"Jedi aren't supposed to feel pride."

He scoffs at that. "That's ridiculous. Pride is a reward you give yourself for living up to your ambitions and doing something well, not a deadly sin."

"Actually, some planets do consider it a deadly sin."

"Along with lust. But you don't seem to shy away from that one."

Point to Gana. "Pride seems a bit irreverent for what we were doing," I argue. "These were real people, not abstractions, not textbook examples. I could guess what was going to happen, but I never knew for certain. There were times I fully expected the situation to blow up. I thought we might have to start over from the beginning."

"You have to learn to look harder for win-win solutions." He winks.

"You'd be amazed how difficult it is to work those out in real life."

"_That_ depends on how persuasive you can be." Force, I love the way he smiles. It reaches his eyes first, before anything else, and I can see lazy satisfaction in them as the corners of his mouth turn up. "Making people see that taking one step back gets them two steps ahead in the long run isn't easy. It's a skill."

"No, it's more like a talent. Some people are better at it than others. My master is very good at this."

"If I recall, you didn't do so badly yourself."

"If you recall?"

"I have it on good authority that a young padawan -- we'll call him Ben for now -- organized emergency food supplies and brought two grumpy factions to the negotiating table during this mission." Oh, those eyes of his. They're sparkling, and I can see laughter just waiting to happen. And here I thought I was going to catch him in a slip. If he'd told me how he knew about our mission to Fin'aq, I might have been able to put a finger on what he does when he isn't out not fucking Jedi. He's clever, entirely too clever. I attempt to relax a little.

"It was satisfying. Being in the field is a completely different experience from staying at the Temple and working with theories."

"You never know how well you've managed to learn things until you have an opportunity to use your knowledge." His eyes are bright. "You can rehearse a situation in your mind, plan out precisely how you'll act when it happens, imagine how you'll feel when it's over -- but when you realize you've done something tangible, something that affects real people, there's something magical about it."

"Yes, exactly." I'm starting to think I've been underestimating him. The way he seems to take nothing seriously made me think I shouldn't take _him_ seriously, either. Maybe I should have tried harder. He congratulated me on the mission earlier, and I blew him off. I tap my fingers on the table, trying to decide how to make amends for the way I responded. "About earlier. When you told me 'Congratulations,' I was very abrupt. I didn't mean to sound so rude."

"It's all right."

"Well, let me explain. It wasn't really about you." I'm groping for the right words now. "Hearing congratulations from others seems superfluous."

"The work itself was its own reward?" he guesses.

"No, that's not it, either. I was expected to succeed, and I did. If it were just a matter of living up to others' expectations, I'd accept the congratulations, and then I'd move on to the next challenge, without thinking too much about what I did, or how it made me feel. But I _do_ think about it."

"You're not nearly as selfless as you sound," he interrupts.

"What?"

"You may eschew pridefulness, but you're obviously pleased with what you accomplished. And I don't think it's all about what you did for the Order."

"Maybe not. Does that disappoint you?"

"Well, you're a Jedi. Aren't Jedi supposed to be selfless and humble all the time?"

"I think you need to review certain lessons about abstractions versus reality," I grin at him. He opens his mouth; closes it again. Momentarily speechless. Point to me.

He recovers fast. Someone who wasn't watching him as closely as I've been might not have noticed this at all. "So your life isn't just about making a selfless commitment to the Order?"

"No, it isn't. What I do is very rewarding." His eyes are back on me, and I can actually feel him trying to look into me. It's unsettling. I'm still not sure how to explain how this makes me feel, and having Gana looking at me that way doesn't help. "There's something I expect from myself, and when I do something well, it's like..."

"It's like reaching for something in yourself. And finding it." He smiles. "Which is all the more breathtaking when you realize you weren't sure what you were reaching for in the first place."

Yes. _Yes._ "Yes, that's exactly..."

"I know."

His hand is reaching out for mine, across the surface of the table. His thumb glides over the back of my hand, and I can feel his touch setting sparks off between us. If I wanted to, I could lean toward him, and he'd let me kiss him.

Instead, I ask, "So where did you figure this out?" I lean forward, lowering my voice just a bit. "What planet were you saving?"

The moment breaks, and he pulls back, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I..." He clears his throat and turns to his wine, taking a sip and... _stalling._ Oh, now that's interesting. I've pictured this moment more than once over the last few months: what it would feel like to talk him into a corner somehow, to get him rattled the way I was rattled the first night we met. What it would feel like to see him lose his calm, elegant demeanor, and watch him struggle to speak.

I've fantasized about making him speechless. And it's just now starting to occur to me what that means. Yes, he's speechless now, but what I'm thinking about is the fact that _I've imagined this moment._ I've thought about what it would be like to get him unsettled to a point where we're sitting here, silent, just watching each other. Only I didn't realize my half of the silence would mean I was feeling the same way, unsettled and wondering what the hell is happening between us.

"Ben..."

"Stop."

The unreadable expression in his eyes is starting to turn into concern. "What's the matter?"

"Just stop."

How did I miss this? How did I manage to gloss over how badly he's affected me? That first night I chalked it up to an almost-childish need to prove myself, and when I woke up the next morning, I was able to push it out of my mind without trying too hard.

But then there was the second night, when he was gone before I could see him. I never even tried to make an excuse for my actions when I went home that night, not to myself and certainly not to Qui.

Gana is reaching forward for me again, and his brow is furrowed a bit in concern. I've pulled into myself to center, to see whether something is happening here that should worry me...

...and I think it should.

I look up at him, and he stops mid-reach, leaning back in his chair and regarding me for a moment. He could probably make some facetious comment here, to break this increasingly uncomfortable silence. But he doesn't try, and I'm glad. He turns away from me to signal someone off in the corner of the room. I watch his movements, putting myself into the role of observer, as I have to do so often in the field. Once he's gotten the attention of a woman in the corner, he looks back to me, and we're free to go. He doesn't even need to have a credit chip scanned. Either he comes here often, or he knows these people very well. Whichever it is, he's good for his debts. We leave the restaurant together, and I notice it's gotten cooler out. The cool air on my skin feels good, a nice contrast to how warm Gana's eyes make me feel.

His eyes shouldn't make me feel this warm, because, for once, he isn't trying. His expression is the most elegantly practiced neutral I've ever seen. I have absolutely no idea what he's thinking. I suspect I'm supposed to come up with something to say, but I can't seem to do it. Nothing's coming to mind.

"Ben..." He comes closer, and I can't stop him. It makes me smile, a bit, because this is the first time he's approached me. I finally got to him.

I step back, and he takes another step to close the distance I'm trying to put between us. His hands come up to cup my face. They're soft, and his touch is light, gentle. Not at all what I imagined, not what I fantasized about. More, though. Better. Except I shouldn't have been fantasizing about this moment at all.

And all my thoughts fly out of my head now, because he's leaning forward to kiss me. Oh, Force, it's good, and I want to lose myself in it. I wrap my arms around him, and yes, I'm lost, but he's right there with me.

He pulls away, but not far. His hands are still on my face, his fingertips caressing my cheeks, and his forehead is pressed to mine. I'm holding him, and he feels so good against me. Warm. Soft and hard all at once. I could sink into him and stay lost, and right now, I want that.

I realize this time he's the one who's breathing heavily. I'm calm, calmer than I should be. "You disappeared on me," he says. "Where were you?"

I want to be able to laugh, and I nearly manage it. "Not used to having people disappear on you?"

It hits him, almost like a physical blow, and he's pulling away from me before I can decide whether I want to let him go or not. "No," he tells me, getting the smirk back on his face. It starts at the corners of his mouth, though, not touching those dark eyes of his. "I'm usually the one who vanishes mysteriously into the mist."

"It might do you some good to have someone else disappear on you for once, then."

"You're going to have to work harder on your threats," he teases. "You _do_ want to see me again."

I shake my head. "No."

"Try to sound like you mean it." Damn him. He's pulling me into his arms again, and I let him. His mouth is warm on mine, soft, and Force, it's all I can do to keep myself from trembling. I can taste the wine he was drinking with dinner; I can feel the tension in him echoing into me. I want this too much. But so does he.

I break the kiss this time. "You're really pulling out all the stops, aren't you?" I ask. He is, of course, and he didn't want me to notice. I focus on that, ignoring what I've been feeling, pushing away the nagging sense that I should get out of here before things go too far. I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing myself to him, and I can feel his erection pressing into me. I kiss the underside of his jaw, and he lets me. He doesn't relax, though; doesn't let his guard down. "Do you really want to see me again that badly?" I ask. "Or do you just want to be the one who calls it off?"

"You have to have something before you can call it off," he points out. "We've got nothing."

"Nothing?" I reach out for him, curling my hand around his cock. Oh, yes. _That's_ what I've been wanting to do since I first saw him. He jerks as I squeeze him. I hear the hiss of breath as he closes his teeth together. I've had men in this position before, had them try like hell not to beg. I suspect if I could get him into a dark alley, I could make him stand still while I went to my knees in front of him and sucked him off, and that might clear my head a bit.

Come on, Kenobi. _Move._ Get this man out of your mind and into your mouth where he belongs.

He curses, softly, against my shoulder. "Stop." He pulls my hand away from his cock.

"If you're going to tell me you don't fuck Jedi..."

"I don't do one-night-stands." He pulls back so he can look at me, and actually laughs at the irritation on my face. "I have to leave Coruscant, but I'll be back in about a month. Want to try again then?" He grins. "I might let you win for once."

I have to get away from him. I do want to see him again, even though I know damn well this is crossing a line -- I've been thinking of him too much already. I shouldn't be focused on anyone like this, let alone a man I don't know, a man who won't even tell me his real name. This should scare the hell out of me.

_Get out of here. Now._ My instincts and my rational thoughts are rarely in such emphatic agreement. I ignore both. I tell myself that if this becomes too distracting, if this interferes with my life, I'll get out. Right now, I want Gana to stop smirking at me. I want to get him speechless again. He'll be back in a month. I'll have a month to figure out exactly how to get him to shut up and kiss me.

"What makes you think I won't be out saving the world?" I ask, trying to match his tone. He's not the only one who can smirk.

He lets out a melodramatic sigh. "This is another reason I never fuck Jedi. Saving the world can really play hell with scheduling."

"Try to sound like you mean it," I shoot back. The expression on his face is priceless -- a little bit of pained chagrin, a little bit of irritation.

"Five weeks from now. Same time, same day of the week. And if you're going to be off-planet, leave a message with the staff here at Balikk's." He gestures at the sign on the awning above the doorway. The name of this place is burned into my memory; I'm not going to forget. "Or..." He shrugs, trying hard to look nonchalant, and almost, almost pulling it off. "Or don't."

Oh, I love this. Mr. Never-Fucks-A-Jedi actually gives a damn whether I show up or not. "I'll think about it," I tell him.

It hits me, though: I am already thinking about it. I'm already thinking about how I'm going to spend the next five weeks imagining how he feels in my arms, how his mouth felt against mine. I'm already thinking about what I'll say to make him lose his train of thought, what I'll have to do to get him into bed.

I'm already thinking about it, and he hasn't even disappeared into the night yet.

Force, what is _wrong_ with me?

"I'll think about it," I repeat. His eyes narrow, as if he's sensed my sudden misgivings. He leans in to kiss me again.

_Fuck_, he's good at this. My pulse is racing, and this time he lets loose. If I thought he was pulling out all the stops before, I was fooling myself. I am breathless and shaking by the time he's through with me. My hands are fisted in his sweater. The only thing that's stopping me from shoving him into the alley and fucking him is the absolute conviction that I shouldn't be here with him _at all_. My composure has been destroyed. Any illusions I had about being in control of anything here are gone. He pulls back, and those eyes of his are drilling into me, and I can't breathe.

"Think hard," he whispers.

This time when everything I am is screaming at me to get out of here, I do it. I don't look back. I don't feel his eyes on me. I'm too busy thinking about what I'll be doing in five weeks, and what it will mean if I show up.

_-end-_


End file.
